


Revenge Is Blond

by kcstories



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: 4th year au, Community: 7spells, Gen, Hogwarts Era, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-04
Updated: 2010-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-07 00:49:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcstories/pseuds/kcstories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco ends up in the hospital wing after a Quidditch accident. Pansy gets even with Potter, the one who challenged him to that game in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revenge Is Blond

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Originally written in April 2007 for a claim at the 7spells community at LJ.  
> **Disclaimer:** The Potterverse is JKR's, not mine. Written for fun, not profit.  
> **Warnings:** AU-ish. Silliness.

The hospital sheets are five shades of white, and the boy in the bed looks even paler.

"What happened to Draco?" a frantic Pansy asks.

"He crashed his new broom into a tree," Gregory tells her. "Playing Quidditch."

"What? I thought Quidditch was cancelled this year?"

"It is, but well, Potter challenged him to a game, and you know Draco and Potter; they just can’t help themselves, can they?”

Pansy sighs. "Doesn't Potter have enough on his plate with the Triwizard crap?"

Gregory only shrugs in response.

The boy on the bed groans and points a shaky finger at the ceiling. "Ten snitches, Pansy," he says. "Pretty and gold."

"Yes, sweetheart," Pansy replies, frowning. “I’m sure there are." Then she turns to Vincent and Gregory, and announces, "Harry Potter is a dead man."

"What are you planning?" Vincent asks.

"Wait," she says with a menacing smile, "and you'll see."

 

*

 

"Are you sure you should be eating that piece of chocolate, Harry? You don't even know where it came from."

He shrugs. "It tastes fine, Hermione. It’s probably a present from a supporter or something. Listen, I'll be back in a tic, all right?"

With that, he races up the stairs to the tower, and when he rushes back down again, his two best friends stare at him open-mouthed.

"What?" he asks, confused.

"Y-Your hair, Harry," Hermione says. "It's... it's..."

Harry whips around and when he sees his reflection in the window, he almost screams. His hair has turned blond, is slicked back and there's more gel in it than any sane person would ever use. "Bloody hell!"

"I did warn you, Harry," Hermione points out. "When will you ever learn?"

As if on cue, Pansy, Gregory and Vincent come walking past.

“Now really, Potter,” Pansy remarks with a smirk. "I know you've got some sick fixation on Draco, but this is taking things a bit far, isn’t it?”

Chuckling, the three Slytherins saunter off and disappear from view, and just when Harry thinks he couldn't possibly get any more embarrassed, a familiar voice says sternly, "Mister Potter, twenty points from Gryffindor for inappropriate use of potion ingredients!"

"But I didn't—" Harry starts to protest.

"He really didn't, Sir," Ron interjects helpfully.  "There was this box of chocolates that came in the Owl post this lunchtime, you see, and…"

"SILENCE!" Snape bellows. "If you insist on experimenting with your _coiffure_, Mister Potter, I suggest you do so on your own time and preferably somewhere private where there are no impressionable students around to witness the ghastly results. Now, off to the Infirmary with the lot of you to get this sorted out, before I find myself tempted to deduct even more housepoints!"

Sighing, the three friends turn around and quickly make their way to the hospital wing.

"I'm going to get whoever did this," Harry announces to no one in particular.

"Leave it," Hermione says reasonably. "You have more important things to worry about right now."

They don't know about the three Slytherins hiding behind a thick drapery and congratulating each other on a revenge plan well executed.

“Next time, boys,” Pansy announces, rubbing her hands in glee, “we’ll be taking pictures, too.”

 

*

 


End file.
